


A detective story

by sherlockrequiem



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-27
Updated: 2017-03-27
Packaged: 2018-10-11 15:30:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10468245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sherlockrequiem/pseuds/sherlockrequiem
Summary: A story about John and Sherlock and how to get there. Sort of.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dale Pike (yesiamTHATdalepike)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yesiamTHATdalepike/gifts).



> I am lazy : I could have tried to make this good, but I was impatient so it just is what it is. A gift.

 

 

 

 

 

“Look, says the woman pointedly, I know you’ve been through a lot together.”

 _Do you_ , John thinks.

“And you rely on each other for about everything. “

 _Do we_ , Sherlock wonders.

“But everything must come to an end at one point.”

They stare at her.

“What…”

“… do you…”

“… mean ? ”

 

John thinks this is some kind of game that Sherlock is supposed to play while he remains ignorant of what the fuck is going on.

Sherlock looks at John who absentmindedly plays with his sock.

The woman slowly takes a cigarette from her pocket.

John frowns.

Sherlock leans toward her.

“I like what you’ve done with the flat. One can only appreciate how you tried to make it look like it used to be, but clearly, you would need time to make it feel like home again, like a real home.”

John frowns even more.

Sherlock looks at the cigarette, the flat, the woman, the John, the cigarette, his shoes, the cigarette.

“Maybe you should consider giving up the place. Get on with your lives. Go and do something else.”

“Who the hell are you anyway?”

“John, let her speak.”

 

The woman opens her right hand and reveals a blue matchbox inside. She takes a match carefuly.

“You’ve had your time. Maybe it’s time for other heroes to take your place.”

“Excuse-me, my name is John Watson, army doctor, companion of Sherlock Holmes, private detective, I am not a bloody hero. We are men, made of flesh and blood, we have feel -”

“John…”

“I know. Believe me I know. But it seems you two failed to fulfill your task.”

“And what would that be, please? “

The woman smiles bitterly.

“You never made it to the end.”

“I don’t know about me, Ms Whatever, but you might make it to the end real soon.”

“John…”

“You misunderstand me.”

She cracks the match.

 

And the door slams open.

 

“It’s good to be home, John !” Sherlock says, rushing in, followed by a panting John. They stop in the doorframe when they see Sherlock and John sitting in their chairs.

Sherlock stares at Sherlock. John stares at John. John stares at the two Sherlock and licks his lip. The woman casts a knowing look at the skull on the mantelpiece, takes a sip of tea and puffs on her cigarette.

“Would someone care to explain ?” one of the John says.

“Someone is playing a game.” One of the Sherlock says.

“Obviously…”

“This is not our flat, something has changed.”

“Of course it has, it’s been blown up !” John says (the one knowing about the blown up)

“I don’t like it” The other John says.

“You must be from the past” says Sherlock (the one in the chair) to Sherlock (the one in the doorframe)

The woman clears her throat “Well done, Sherlock and John from the past, brilliant idea, rushing in like that. You think you two still have a chance, do you? You think you haven’t fucked up the story yet. You want to come back, erase the latest events and make it right, don’t you ?”

“Well, why not?” the second Sherlock says.

“What will you do of these two ?” she gestures at Sherlock 1st and John 1st.

“They will probably… disappear eventually.”

“Don’t you dare !” John 1st snaps. “After all we’ve been through… you have no right.”

“Well there can’t be 4 of us.”

The woman takes another puff.

“See what I mean ? This place is so crowded with memories, and yet, nothing is right anymore. This living room has seen everything. Well, except what we are all waiting for, unfortunately. It’s unbearable. ”

 _Indeed_ , Sherlock, Sherlock, John and John think, sadly.

 

A muffled sound echoes through the room. One of the Sherlock steps toward his bedroom, followed by the rest of the flock. The low rumble of Sherlock’s laughter and John’s nervous but amused _shhhh_  get through the closed door. They approach it.

“They are in bed” someone whispers.

John, Sherlock, the woman, Sherlock, and John grin at each other.

Suddenly the door opens.

“I told you they were people behind the door.”

“Who cares ? Come back to bed.”

“Sherlock!”

“John Watson, close these door or I will…”

The door slams shut.

 

The five of them go back in the living room, overjoyed.

John looks at Sherlock.

Sherlock looks at John.

The woman looks at Sherlock and John.

They all begin to kiss and have sex.

They pause to look at the author. _Really?_

Ok, erase that.

 

They come back in the living room, quite astonished and softened.

The woman sits on her chair, ponders for a moment, puffs, and says :

“It’s cheating. It doesn’t count.”

“Oh bloody hell, they’re having sex, what else do you want ?!”

“It’s too easy, you can’t just suddenly have sex !”

“Why not?”

“It makes a terrible love story!”

“But this is a detective story ! We don’t have time for romance Ms… what is your bloody name ?”

“Pike. The name is Pike.”

“…Ms. Pike”

They shake hand.

“Come on guys, let's get real for a minute, stop this nonsense about the adventure, the detective work, the saving the world drama, it doesn’t matter."

“Ms. Pike, you’ll find that many people think it matters a great deal. Starting with those whose life we saved.”

“Ok, sorry Mr Holmes, but don’t pretend your life hasn’t been fucked up lately, more than usual, don’t tell me you haven’t noticed how things make no sense anymore because you don’t even take the time for living, quietly, softly, humanly. You never want to take the time anymore, and so of course, it all goes to shit, and it can’t have a proper ending !”

Ms. Pike stands up on her chair and raises her arms and starts to sing

She casts a look at the author _Maybe not?_

Ms. Pike stands up on the floor and raises an eyebrow.

“What matters is the little things, those you see under a microscope, after hours of peering at it ! What matters is what’s between the cases, between one moment and the next, between the lines ! What we don’t see ! This goddamn elephant ! This bloody glowing matchbox ! The most beautiful things are not easy or immediate. You have to work for them. What you call “boring”, what you are afraid of because it is such a quiet and fragile thing, what you don’t dare to break and end up stepping on, what can’t be said, explained, showed, except with time, patience, abandon – this is what matters !”

 

John and Sherlock come out the bedroom . They cast a confused look at John, Sherlock, Sherlock and John.

“What is she on about?”

“She says we don’t have a proper end.”

“Maybe she should be more patient herself.”

“Or write her own version.”

Ms. Pike winks at the readers.

Sex-John winks at pre-Recheinbach Sherlock.

Pre-Recheinbach Sherlock blushes confusedly and hides his face in widower John.

Widower John looks hungrily at sex-Sherlock.

Sex-Sherlock  tries to get John Hamish Watson if you’re looking for baby names’ attention.

John Hamish Watson if you’re looking for baby names attempts to understand why post-Eruus Sherlock looks so sad.

Post-Eruus Sherlock nods at Mary.

Mary smiles at them, gets up from the couch, goes to Ms Pike, shakes her hand, and leave.

The readers sigh.

Ms.Pike claps her hands.

“I just think this place is a bit tired. Maybe go away for a while. Start again differently. Or make an effort and come back like you mean it. But anyway, we need something new to look at.”

Sherlock, John, Sherlock, Sherlock, John and John say nothing. One by one, they leave the room.

 

Once alone, Pike casts a guilty look in the mirror. She takes her mask off. Pike’s face disappears and unknown features appear. The woman goes to the window, opens it and looks at the sky. She turns to the camera and says “I just meant to show that Pike managed to hold them all together. Maybe you should try.” She then proceeds to fly away in the London sky.

 

 

  

**Author's Note:**

> Don't work yourself up about which is the right story. Just look for the good ones. [ For instance this one.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7627123)
> 
> Dear matchbox master, people will, always, however good you are. But. It's all fleeting.  
> Good words are not fleeting. Nor the will to believe. I stand by you. (And stand for you in this instance, but it's only for the joke really).


End file.
